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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23483464">Fix It, Fix Me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thatsanswitch/pseuds/Thatsanswitch'>Thatsanswitch</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Reservoir Dogs (1992)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Freddy has been through too much, Freddy needs a hug, Hurt/Comfort, I hurt my boy, Internalized Homophobia, Larry will give him that hug, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Period-Typical Homophobia, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 08:21:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,031</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23483464</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thatsanswitch/pseuds/Thatsanswitch</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Freddy Newandyke just wanted to help people. He wanted to be like the superheroes in the comics, he wanted people to be proud of him. That’s how he ended up on the L.A.P.D task force, that’s how he ended up as an undercover cop on a jewel heist. He had expected a lot of things, but he never expected to fall for the mysterious man known as Mr. White. It suddenly felt like his life was crumbling, as he found himself faced with two options, either betray Mr. White’s trust and put him behind bars, or confess and get killed. </p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Mr. Orange/Mr. White (Reservoir Dogs)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>94</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Fix It, Fix Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Have some angsty creamsicle! Hope you enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Freddy Newandyke knew he was fucked up. He was beaten down, used and abused his entire life. He thought maybe becoming a cop would make him worth something, but he was proven wrong when on his second week when he was dragged into the interrogation room, beaten, fucked, and humiliated, reminded just where his place was in this godforsaken world.</p><p>He hid scars behind smiles and fabric, a facade built to hide the broken pieces of his mind he so meticulously tried to hide. </p><p>After years and years of hiding, he found he was good at deceiving those around him. </p><p>That could have been why he was chosen to be the undercover rat for a diamond heist. Or maybe it's because the rest of the P.D saw him as disposable. </p><p>After all, he had no family, no friends, no one who would miss him, or care. It was basically a suicide mission if the thieves found him out, so why not send him?</p><p>Freddy could care less if he died or not. He had nothing else to live for. So he took the job. </p><p>He expected many things to come from it. What he didn't expect, however, was to fall for the tall, mysterious man known as Mr. White. </p><p>Mr. White was an older man, he had maybe ten years or so on Freddy, who had just barely turned twenty four. </p><p>But God, was he gorgeous. Tall, well built, with deep brown eyes and a surprisingly kind smile for a hardened criminal. </p><p>If things were different, Freddy might have tried to pursue him. If he wasn't closeted, if it wasn't the nineties and the aids crisis was in full swing, if he wasn't a fucking cop trying to get him arrested. </p><p>So he made the decision to avoid him, avoid making an even bigger mistake than he already had. </p><p>Of course, it couldn't work out that way, could it? Of course he was paired with him. </p><p>He was in his car now, gripping his steering wheel, his knuckles white. Mr. White was in the passenger seat, and if he noticed how tense he was, he didn't say a word. Mr White had decided to stay with him, since he had been recognized at the motel he was staying at.</p><p>"So, kid, you're awfully quiet. You nervous?" Mr. White asked, glancing over at him with an amused smile. </p><p>"What? No, I- I'm just quiet sometimes. I'm not nervous."</p><p>It was a lie, and Freddy knew it, he just hoped to whatever God was listening that White didn't. Truth be told, anxiety was eating away at him, he felt like at any moment his heart might explode. He was way in over his head, and there was no turning back now. </p><p>The rest of the ride to his shitty little apartment was silent, thankfully. He brought White inside, face flush with embarrassment at all the superhero memorabilia scattered around the cramped space. He should have redecorated, he should have done something, but he didn't think they'd be going back to his apartment. </p><p>"Nice place." Mr. White said with that same damned amused smile. </p><p>Another lie, but at least this time it wasn't from him. He was sick of lying, but he wouldn't dare tell the truth.</p><p>"Oh, uh, thanks man." Freddy said, wanting nothing more than to drop the topic of his decorating skills. "You can take the couch, if you want."</p><p>Like hell he'd be letting a criminal in his bed. </p><p>"Thank you." White gave him a nod. </p><p>"Yeah, sure." He muttered. "I need to, um, use the commode."</p><p>He walked away, leaving him in the living room. </p><p>He locked himself in the bathroom, locking the door and slumping against it. </p><p>"Holy shit… how am I going to do this?" He quietly groaned to himself. </p><p>He just… needed to avoid him as much as possible. That hadn't changed, it would just be a bit more difficult. </p><p>He could do this. He had to do this, even if he had no other choice.</p><p>He couldn't let his damn feelings get in the way.</p><p>~~~</p><p>It was official. Freddy was fucked. </p><p>He had done everything to keep himself from falling for Mr. White, he had done absolutely everything he could think of, and yet he still found himself left with butterflies in his stomach any time Mr. White touched him.  </p><p>He was currently sitting on his couch, some shitty old movie playing on his cheap TV as he and White drank lukewarm beer. </p><p>He was starting to get buzzed, as he told White some bullshit story about nearly being busted for drugs. </p><p>White listened intently, a grin plastered on his face, his deep brown eyes sparkling with amusement. </p><p>“And so then- hic- then he wanted to pat me down! Now, I only like to be frisked by a certain type of person, if ya get what I mean.” Freddy chuckled, his words somewhat slurred. </p><p>White laughed, and good god, it sounded like music to Freddy’s ears. He felt his cheeks go red, as he watched him. </p><p>He had to stop this, before it was too late. </p><p>But the fact he was having a good time, and his liking for White won over. So instead he stood up, grabbing the empty beer bottles from the table. </p><p>“Want another drink, Mr. White?” He asked him. </p><p>“Sure, sure. Oh, and please, call me Larry.” </p><p>Freddy froze up at that last part. He… he hadn’t been expecting that, at all. </p><p>“But, uh, but sir, Joe Cabot said we wasn’t supposed to say our names.” He said, swallowing thickly as he quickly sobered up. </p><p>“Oh, fuck what Joe said. I hate those stupid names he gave us.” White- no, Larry- huffed. </p><p>“Oh…” Freddy frowned. It was hard enough already, why did he have to go and make this harder?</p><p>"You can keep calling me White if ya really want. Just thought something more casual would be nice." He said upon seeing him frown.</p><p>Freddy shook his head. "No, it's alright man, if you wanna be called Larry, I'll call you Larry." He said, before walking to the kitchen. </p><p>He threw the bottles away, and leaned against the counter with a heavy sigh. </p><p>The hell was going on in his life? He felt like he was in a car with no brakes, speeding down hill. It was going to crash at any moment, he would die if he stayed in, and he would die if he got out, and the best thing he could do was just close his eyes and wait for the inevitable crash.</p><p>"Hey Orange, did ya get lost in the kitchen?" White's voice came from the living room, full of amusement and mild impatience. </p><p>"Hold on one sec, Larry!" He called, as he got the beers out of the fridge. </p><p>One slipped from his hands, crashing to the floor as he cursed. </p><p>He knelt down and quickly tried to pick up the broken glass. </p><p>"Shit!" He hissed, drawing his hands back quickly. Blood seeped from the cut on his hand, burning from the alcohol. </p><p>His eyes widened in panic when he saw the blood. </p><p>The metallic stench filled his nostrils, as he stumbled back. It was overwhelming, all he could smell was the blood, assaulting his senses. He fell back against the counter, choking on his breath. </p><p>He could hear the yelling. He could hear the screams, smell the acrid smoke pouring out of the crumpled car, the blood leaking onto the pavement. </p><p>So, so much blood. </p><p>He clutched the counter for support, blood pouring over the old linoleum floor. He tried to tell himself it wasn't real, it was in his mind, but he couldn't.</p><p>He couldn't breathe, he couldn't move, he couldn't do anything except stand there, paralyzed and trapped in his mangled mind. </p><p>It was Larry who tore him from his dissociative state.  </p><p>"Orange? Kid, what's going on? Shit!" </p><p>Upon hearing Larry's voice, Freddy looked up, eyes glazed, panic spreading in his chest. </p><p>"Kid." Larry snapped his fingers in front of his face. "Kid, can you hear me?"</p><p>He became a little more focused, managing a nod as he glanced around the room. There was no blood on the floor, just a broken bottle with its contents spread across the linoleum.  </p><p>"Shit man, you're bleeding. The fuck did you do to yourself? All you were supposed to do is get booze." He muttered, his voice more concerned than anything. </p><p>Freddy let out a shaking breath. "I-I dropped the bottle, and it- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…"</p><p>Larry carefully took his hand. He swallowed nervously, looking up at him. </p><p>“May I?” Larry asked, gesturing to his injured hand. </p><p>He wanted to ask why, but the words got caught in his throat. He gave him a wary nod instead. </p><p>Larry ripped a few paper towels from the roll, and wet them, before pressing it to his cuts. </p><p>“Be more careful next time, tough guy. Don’t want ya bleeding out on your kitchen floor, now do we?” He said, trying to lighten the mood. </p><p>Freddy just nodded, his words lost on him. </p><p>Larry frowned, and continued to clean up his hand. </p><p>Freddy felt like such a goddamn disaster. Here he was, standing in his kitchen, too out of it to patch up his hand, and too clumsy to clean up the mess he made. At the first sign of blood he panicked, he wasn’t supposed to panic, he was supposed to stay calm and collected. Not to mention the one patching him up was a criminal that he was supposed to rat out. Why the fuck did Larry have to be so nice? Why couldn’t he have just kept away? </p><p>Larry eventually broke the silence. “So… you wanna tell me what happened inside that mind of yours just now? Why you were standing here all panicked and dazed?” </p><p>He winced. He could either tell the truth, at least part of it, or he could lie again. And god, was he sick of lying. </p><p>“A few months back I saw a car crash… It was bad, man, real fuckin bad… The car was on fire, and crushed like a soda can, but the people inside were still alive. There were fuckin kids… I could hear them screaming, and I couldn’t do anything to help, and there was so much blood…” His words grew shaky and uneven, as he drew in a breath. “It, uh, it messed me up pretty bad. Felt pretty fuckin helpless for a long damn time. Blood just sets off the memories I guess.” </p><p>Larry paused. “And you saw it happen?”</p><p>He nodded. </p><p>“That’s… that’s rough kid. I’m sorry. Shit like that you don’t easily forget… have you talked to anyone about it?” </p><p>Freddy let out a halfhearted scoff. “What, like a shrink?” </p><p>Larry shrugged. “A shrink, friends, family, significant other. Anyone.” </p><p>He shook his head. “I don’t got anyone like that.” </p><p>“Really? I find that surprising. I’d think the ladies would be all over you.” Larry said, an amused smile playing on his lips. </p><p>“Ha, yeah right. No lady wants me.” He muttered. </p><p>“Any guys then?” </p><p>Freddy almost choked. “What!? No- I-” He stumbled over his words, unable to get them out.</p><p>Larry chuckled goodnaturedly. “I’m just joking with ya. Seriously though, you got no one to talk to?”</p><p>He shook his head, face flush. </p><p>“That’s a damn shame. You’re a nice kid.” He said with a sigh. He finished cleaning the cuts on his hand, and removing the bits of glass. “You got any bandages?” </p><p>“Yeah, they’re in the bathroom cabinet.” He answered. </p><p>“Stay right here. And no more tryna pick up broken glass, okay? Don’t be a dumbass.”  </p><p>Larry left him leaning against the counter. </p><p>Why was Larry being so nice, so caring? Why didn’t he just laugh at him and make him pick the glass up on his own, regardless of the cuts? Why was he doing any of this?</p><p>Freddy had a feeling he would be asking why a lot in the coming weeks. And frankly, he had no idea what to expect from Larry. </p><p>All he knew was that this wasn’t going to end well for him.</p>
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